The Statue
by Avaleia
Summary: As Aang's friends try to deal with the pain of their loss, they build a statue for him, one that will immortalize him forever. However, some memories take more than a statue to heal. Oneshot, Kataang and slight Tokka.


Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender

Author's Note: My creativity has been running haywire for the past few days, and I've decided to cool myself off with a oneshot. You may recall that I am an evil person and like to write sad, tearjerking things. But really. I'm trying to incorporate some romance into this depressing tissuebox fic. Blah. Wonder how _that'll_ turn out.

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The cold ground was frigid beneath her feet. 

Her job was to carve the statue, to picture him in her mind and make him. Her job was to create his likeness, to form his innocence out of cold, unrelenting rock that would stand the test of time. Her job was to immortalize him in stone, the hard, cold stone that rose out in jagged peaks among the snow-covered cliffs.

She had set to work almost instantly after the warrior had pitched the idea and set it into action. She had tried to feel those vibrations in the earth, to seek his out, as always. It would've worked but for the simple, cruel fact. The fact that he was _gone_.

He was gone, and the blind girl had no idea what he looked like.

He was gone, the vibrations were gone. They had expected her to be able to carve him, because she was an _Earthbender_, but it was horrible, horrible to finally realize that she had never lay eyes on the Airbender, not once in her life. She had only felt him, and sensed him, and heard him.

She had never seen the joy in his grey eyes, or saw the determination sketched on his face, never saw his lips utter his dying words. She had never seen him reach out for the one he loved, the Waterbender, had never seen the pure happiness in his face as he mastered Earthbending. She cursed her blindness and wished it were gone. But there was no use in that, either.

She tried to carve his feet. Easy enough. Light as feathers and swift as arrows, his feet. Small and lithe and graceful, like a dancer's. Twinkletoes.

She tried to carve his legs. Long, thin, and lanky was her guess. She tried to remember, tried to remember the feel of his vibrations under her feet.

She tried to carve his arms and hands. An Airbender's hands, an Airbender's arms. Long, arrow-shaped tattoos running up and down the length of them.

She moved to his face, and then to his eyes. His _eyes. _No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she forced herself to remember, she could not remember what his eyes looked like.

Then again, she had never known.

She collasped onto the ground. The statue remained, broken, into so many little pieces: feet, legs, torso, hands, arms, face...

But no eyes.

She cursed herself. No eyes. How stupid had she been? She hadn't been born with any sight, but her _eyes_ had been there.

Toph felt weak, for the first time in her life. She knew how it felt, now, to be truly blind.

---

The warrior had the task of painting the statue.

He had looked at the stone figures in the temple, cold and hard and solemn, and said to his sister, "Aang's statue deserves to be better."

How easy it seemed to paint the colors, at first sight. How easy it seemed to paint the vibrant hues of orange and yellow onto the stone...

But, in truth, it was so much harder than that.

He had wanted to capture his youthful spirit, his strong will and determination. He had imagined, when he was finished, to see almost a copy of Aang, albeit lifeless, staring back at him. He missed him so much, he had been a younger brother, a friend, and he had just wanted so desperately to have him back.

With every stroke of the brush, however, Sokka found it harder to go on.

A stroke of the yellow. How happy Aang had been, flying through the air. What a naive child he had been then, happy, and innocent, and carefree. If only the world had been that way. The war gone, peace, and Aang would still be _alive_.

A stroke of the orange. How determined he had been, fighting alongside the ones he loved. How determined he was to master the elements that had taken some a lifetime to learn. And he fought because he truly loved the world, even the Fire Nation. He wanted peace, even if he had to die for it.

A stroke of the grey. His grey eyes had always been captivating, mysterious. Only his sister could read them, and even so, she found his feelings so hard to decipher. Twelve years old and bent on saving the world... he had felt so many things before, more things than most people could ever feel in their lives. And love, for the world, and for his friends. For his sister.

The colors against the stone felt harsh. Unrelenting. So many memories had been painted on, with every stroke of the brush, but they felt hollow. Empty, and lifeless, without a true soul breathing inside.

And Sokka realized: no matter how many colors were painted on to the statue, no matter how much time was spent on making it look better, it would never be Aang. He could look into those stone eyes and try to find him and see nothing at all.

It was only a statue, anyways. It was different.

--

The Waterbender had no task at all.

She had felt it wrong, so wrong, and had begged for a change to play a part in the making of her best friend's statue. But no, Toph and Sokka had both agreed that she had done enough. There was no reason for her to suffer anymore.

There was so much more reason to suffer for, though. So much more reason.

She had at first refused to accept it. She had been _there_, she had been _beside him_, she had closed his eyes and watched his breathing fade. She hadn't a clue what had happened afterwards, but she remembered holding him in her arms, sobbing something along the lines of "No, no."

She didn't care what happened afterwards, and didn't bother to ask. The war had been won, but Aang had lost the battle. She felt like storming into every celebratory party in the world and shouting that there was absolutely no reason, no reason at_ all _for anyone to be happy. Not when their savior had died.

She had closed herself off from the world. She refused to be heralded as a hero, especially when she hadn't done anything to stop him dying. She realized how stupid she had been. She had her waterskin. She had her bending, and her healing, and...

She wanted to die.

She wanted to at least see him again. She wanted to look into those eyes, say that she was so sorry, so sorry. She had never meant for it to turn out this way.

She wanted to at least hear him again. He had been mouthing something, mouthing something so softly that she had to bend down to hear him speak. What he was whispering shocked her, and she held onto him, held onto him, and willed him to _live_.

"Oh, gods, no..." she remembered saying at the time, and yet he looked so compliant... so compliant to meet his fate, so willing and so unafraid.

She had looked at him, her eyes red and her vision blurred, her heart pounding. She had looked into his grey eyes, trying to read his emotions, trying to reassure him.

But he sensed her fear, and he had comforted _her_. And how she regretted it all, how she regretted making him lose that energy, lose that will to live, by crying and acting like it was all over.

He had looked at her calmly and quietly. He was smiling, as if he saw something in the distance. She had turned, but realized that his eyes were fixed onto her.

And there was something in his eyes... something tragic but yet so peaceful, a soft, tender look that made her feel more like a friend than anything else ever did.

There was something in his eyes that spoke to her, spoke to her like no words ever could. And she had nodded, she had held him in her arms, and let him know that she was alright...

That she loved him too, so much, so much.

And the tears came, flooding. The tears came down, and she sobbed and realized that no matter what, no matter how many times she said it to herself or shouted it into the heavens, that Aang would never know.

He would never know that he was her solace in the middle of the night, her company when she was alone. He would never know that she would do anything for him and give her life for his. He would never know that, no matter what, even if death separated them, she would keep on thinking and caring and wishing about him.

He would never know that she loved him more than anything else in the world, even now, when he was gone.

---

"Katara? We're done."

The Earthbender had spent hours on making everything right. She had relied on her observations, her memory, her touch. She had asked Sokka and questioned him on every square inch. She had wanted it to be purely Aang and only Aang.

Sokka had painted every coat at least five times. _The color might fade away_, he mused, _but his spirit never will._

The Waterbender had thought about him so much that her head was full of her heart. She needed to see him, at least, in some form. She needed him.

And everyone else knew how much she was suffering.

They took her, took her by the hands. The Earthbender thought it was ironic that, although she was the blind one, she was guiding somebody else. The warrior knew exactly what she was thinking and sighed. His hands ached, but his heart hurt even more.

Katara had lost the will to think. She only wanted to see, and feel, and hear, and be with him again. If a statue was all that she had left of him, then so be it.

The chamber was quiet and still. Almost a year had passed since they had set foot in it first. Now, they were entering it again, for a completely different reason.

"It's over here, Katara. We put it right next to Roku." Toph murmured. She didn't even think she needed to say anything, because it was the first thing Katara's eyes were drawn to.

A crooked smile spread across her face. "Aang? That's Aang?"

Sokka silently shook his head, and Toph, feeling a surge of weakness, immediately turned away so that any sign of sentiment couldn't be seen.

Katara walked slowly to the statue. It looked so much like him, so much like the Aang she knew. She reached out and touched it, and half expected to feel warmth against her skin, to feel him breathe.

She felt cold stone, and suddenly, something came over her.

It was as if everything was breaking loose. It was as if she were watching him die all over again, just touching the statue and feeling its deadness.

It was as if she herself were dying. It was unreal, it was horrible.

Sokka looked at her, his eyes unreadable. He knew how she felt, and tried to hold back the wrenching feeling in his heart.

Toph didn't see it, but she could feel it. A quiet sob escaped her, and immediately, the warrior was at her side.

The Waterbender stood there, alone, until she sunk, defeated, onto her knees.

"Where are you, Aang? Where _are _you?"

Toph shook her head, and Sokka held her close. All of a sudden, the wall that made Toph tough was crumbling down and she was sobbing, sobbing into his shoulders as she heard Katara plead for her lost friend.

Sokka's calm facade was on the verge of breaking, but he stayed strong, stayed strong for Toph, and turned away from his sister.

Katara's eyes tried to find Aang's eyes. Her hands tried to find his heartbeat, tried to feel his pulse and feel him breathing, alive, not dead...

But lifeless, like the stone, he was never coming back again.

She cried at the base of the statue, wanting to badly to break it and break the harsh reality that Aang was gone...

But Toph and Sokka had worked so hard on it, and they loved her. She loved them, but she loved Aang most of all.

Toph's sobs echoed in the chamber, and Sokka hugged her close, held her tight. She needed him now, more than ever, just like Katara needed Aang.

But Toph was lucky that she had somebody to hold on to. Katara only had a dream, a wish, a fragment of Aang. Toph had him, and Katara had nothing.

The harshness of it crashed down on him, and he walked over quietly, signaling Toph to follow. She did so, taking small, shameful steps. She hated crying in front of people, especially Sokka, who probably thought she was an idiot now...

The warrior, instead, sat down next to Katara, who looked up, her face tear-streaken and sunken with grief.

"It's not Aang, Sokka. It's a statue, and it looks like Aang, but it's _not._" She found herself stating miserably.

Her brother wrapped his arms around her protectively, and Toph followed, embracing the two as if there were nothing left on Earth.

"I know it's not Aang, but he's gone, and there's really nothing we can do. But Katara, you have us. And we can try to make you feel better."

Katara looked at her brother, who was smiling faintly, and at the Earthbender, who had closed her eyes, holding them all together.

"Aang's alright now, Katara," she murmured quietly. Tears were still running down her cheeks, but she brushed them aside hastily.

The Waterbender looked at the two, holding her tight, and held on to them as well. They were a family, and although it was different now, they still had to love each other. She sighed and quietly looked at the statue above, speaking more to it than anyone else.

"Maybe it's time I let him know that I'm alright too."

* * *

Author's Note: Sappy, much? Ouch, now my head hurts.

A little constructive criticism won't hurt, though. Please review if you can!


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